Sinner or Saint

I began reading Nelson Mandela’s recent best seller Conversations with Myself the other day. It is a remarkable text based on his letters and diaries written during his nearly 27 years of incarceration. Mandela entered prison at a fairly young age of 46. He never tasted freedom again until after his 72nd birthday.



I paused as I read an insightful passage in a letter he mailed to his wife, Winnie in February, 1975:


“…the cell is an ideal place to learn to know yourself…Honesty, sincerity, simplicity, humility, pure generosity, absence of vanity, readiness to serve others – qualities which are within easy reach of every soul – are the foundation of one’s spiritual life…At least, if for nothing else, the cell gives you the opportunity to look daily into your entire conduct, to overcome the bad and develop whatever is good in you…Never forget that a saint is a sinner who keeps trying.”


I thought about Mandela’s words as I tried to come up with a conciliatory response to a letter I received. Over and over I heard his words roll around in my head, “a sinner who keeps on trying.”


I smile as young men in here gravitate to me, asking for whatever advice I can offer on a wide range of subjects. I enjoy their company. Somehow, having them around me makes the sting of separation and alienation from my own sons more manageable.


I found an anonymous quote that really hit home. “Every trial endured and weathered in the right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before.” The key, I realized, was enduring in the right spirit. That’s the tough part. I still struggle with accepting other people’s failures, weaknesses. Ultimately, that is what creates a forgiving heart.


I have a number of bad habits. One is to immediately respond to any attack. I know I screwed up; I know I risked and lost the people I loved most by my impulsive, greed-driven behavior. I live with that every day. Still, when someone you love blasts you in a letter, my gut tells me to point out their flaws. Wrong approach.


I’ve received a fair amount of news the past few weeks that has made me question God’s infinite wisdom. I’ve actually come to appreciate Job’s argument with God, his “what are You doin’ to me,” discussion.


It hit me that I’d come so far. My heart is broken, yet today, after a very difficult visit, I prayed asking God to just let someone be happy and feel loved.


Forgiveness and love are painful. I have done so many reckless, hurtful things that cost me more than at times it seems I can bear. Yet, in the quiet of my bunk, as I prayed, I placed my trust in God that it will all work out. I keep trying. Right now that’s all I can do.